08/31/2012

My life will not end before I kiss you again:
with an aim like that, I might be able to live without you awhile.
At least until you stumble sweetly off the plane,
the same mess of hair, the same warmth and gentillesse,
and I look up and my eyes meet yours—
until then, I guess, I will have to be okay.
I only hope, while our lips are being reacquainted, 
that my homecoming smile mirrors yours,
and somehow
that convinces you to stay.